


Never lost.

by sserpente



Category: Betrayal (Harold Pinter)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sserpente/pseuds/sserpente
Summary: Robert's and Emma's marriage is history. But you still don't quite know why you returned to London to meet Robert after all these years. Well, perhaps you do. You have always been in love with him.
Relationships: Robert (Betrayal)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Never lost.

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely different from my usual Imagines but it just felt right to build it this way. I really enjoyed writing this, the idea had been ghosting around in my head for months now. I really don’t know if it’s any good but in any case, the you-perspective gives a more intimate and different perspective on Robert’s character, I think. I guess to go in depth properly, I could write an actual play so I hope the dynamic and tension I thought up for this comes across. I haven’t written as many screenplays/scripts as I’ve written stories but without further ado… have fun!

He hadn’t changed. Robert had always been a handsome man and he knew that—in his very own way he did. Your friends hated him. Everything they knew about him was what you had told him. A publisher in his early forties, a father of two children. They told you he was a snob. They even told you he was a little sexist, old-fashioned in terms of marriage and gender order. They had heard he hit his wife. You should have never told them about him. But in the end, it did not change your feelings for him, never. Not after all these years. Well, four. Four years since you had last seen each other. You had decided to move away from London for a while, to meet other men. To get over him, a married man whom you could never have.

Who were you kidding? Emma was cheating on him, she had been for _years_. You didn’t just think that. You knew it. But Robert hadn’t believed you. Why would he? He was madly in love with Emma. She was funny, she was lively, she was beautiful. Maybe you were too. But in the end, he had chosen her, not you.

So why were you here now, back in London? Why had you picked up your bloody phone and dialled Robert’s number? Had you wanted to prove to yourself that you were over him? That you had moved on and that the handful of men you had slept with over the last four years—brief affairs, nothing serious—had helped you forget about _him_?

You felt your heart almost leaping right out of your chest when you spotted him. It used to be your favourite pub. Back when you had regularly met, before he got married. Back when he had established himself as a professional publisher along with Jerry and you were a thriving editor and translator in the literature industry. You remembered that in this very pub, at this bar… he had broken your heart into tiny little pieces without even knowing. He had asked you how he should propose to Emma. In fact, you had always thought he would ask for _your_ hand in marriage, sooner or later. You had thought that Emma would end up with Jerry, Robert’s best friend. They had known each other for years. But there was Judith; and Robert claimed he had only introduced him to her when they got married. Perhaps this was just Robert’s wicked way to cope with her betrayal. You were not going to judge. You carried your own bottled up disappointment, fear and rejection.

Robert’s glance was intimidating, daring anyone to question him or his presence in this pub as he ordered two pints. _He hadn’t changed._ He had told you on the phone. Of his long conversation with Emma, their decision to break up after so many years of marriage. Of her affair with his best friend. She used to be your friend too, before you moved away. Out of a person you longed to despise because she stole a heart meant to fill the empty space in yours became a person you admired for her strength and doggedness. And then she had started seeing Jerry.

Emma had called you the night before you arrived in London. She knew you wanted to meet him. She knew you didn’t know it was _over._ She had cried about the children and you had hung up.

Robert’s face lit up barely noticeably when he spotted you. It was like spotting an old and beautiful friend. He was scanning you, to see if you had physically changed. You hadn’t. Your perky breasts were the same, as was your face, your height and your weight—except for the bags under your eyes. Exhaustion, lack of sleep, stress, lovesickness. It all tore you apart, one way or another.

“Robert.”

You had missed speaking his name. So much your heart leaped at your mouth forming the sounds. He nodded.

“It’s been a while.”

“A long while.”

Your hug was sincere but a little stiff at first. Again, he nodded, weaker this time.

“Drink?”

“Thank you.”

Was it ironic? You were here, enjoying a drink with an old friend you had once loved—or perhaps still loved if only you were to admit it to yourself—all the while Jerry and Emma were doing the very same.

“How have you been, Robert?”

“Well, you’ve heard.”

“I have. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?”

“You know what.”

“Are you really then?”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Silence spread between you as you bit your tongue. You were not sorry. If anything, you were glad his marriage was finally over. You shouldn’t be. But the selfish part of you bathed in his desperation. Maybe it was the only reason he had agreed to meet you again.

“She told me on the phone you betrayed her for years.”

“Did she?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“No.”

You repeated, confirming his words. He had not. You would have known if he had. What your friends thought about him might have rung true to some extent but he never would have cheated on Emma.

Robert looked up, his expression somewhat startled, vulnerable even. Hurt. In fact, you had never seen him as broken as today, almost as if all the pain bubbling right below the surface had now finally broken through a badly healed wound, erupting like a volcano of annihilating emotions. He had thought four years a long time but were they really?

“Of course… not. Look, I might not be the perfect husband. I’ve made mistakes, we all have. But I love her. Or I loved her. Whatever the hell that means.”

“So why did you say it?”

“What?”

“Why did you tell her that you betrayed her for years?”

“Out of… hurt, I suppose. Desperation. I wanted her to suffer as badly as I did. I wanted her to feel the same pain I felt. I don’t know what that says about me, really.”

You paused. It said a lot of things, actually. It said how all that bottled up rage inside him had found a hole to escape through. It said how human he was. It said how your heart had made the right decision to fall for him all these years ago.

Robert had raised his voice and stood from his chair, the pint, half empty, abandoned on the table. With an almost threatening stance, he towered above you. You, of all people, had to understand.

Once more, silence spread between you, tying wires of both anxious and exciting tension between you. For several, torturing seconds, you simple stared each other down, neither willing to blink first until you couldn’t take it anymore and drew your intimidated gaze away from him, facing the ground.

“Did you know who it was?”

He suddenly said. You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know who Emma was having an affair with?”

“You’ve known for years.”

“I know but have you known?”

“No. Not at first. I never investigated, you see.”

You spoke the truth. You truly never did. You cared about _Robert_ —not his wife Emma—in the end.

“Then how did you know in the first place?”

“I’m a woman, Robert. I could tell. I could tell by her behaviour.”

And you had told him. That something was not right. That something was off. You paused, hoping he would say what you were too cowardice for. He said it.

“And I never believed you, did I?”

“No. You didn’t.”

Another moment of silence, buzzing between you like electricity—like a broken cable emitting sparks next to a puddle—deadly.

* * *

_Have you been busy lately?”_

_Robert hadn’t offered you any coffee, he knew you didn’t drink the black brew. You sat there at the kitchen table with your glass of water while he was pacing up and down the room slowly—_ threateningly, _as if he were to pounce on innocent and unknowing prey like a lion._

_He had changed lately. There was a slight bitterness to your conversations with him._

_“Well… Jerry has been trying to convince me to publish Spinks.”_

_“That writer you didn’t like?”_

_“His books are terrible.”_

_“No doubt… we’ve always had the same taste when it comes to books.”_

_“Hmm…”_

_He paused._

_“It’s great to see you again.”_

_“You too.”_

_Finally, he sat down with you, smiling. He meant it. You had always been close, simply never voiced it. The thing was… you always_ listened _to each other’s problems. Circumstances like that, they… created a bond. And Robert had always liked the way you made him feel when you were around—that warm, cosy and tingly feeling spreading in his chest._

_“Where’s Emma?”_

_He took a deep breath, looking in your eyes as he spoke. He liked looking at you. You were rather beautiful, after all. Like one of those paintings Emma displayed in the gallery._

_“Playground, with the children.”_

_“I haven’t seen them in a while. They must have grown so much.”_

_“They have.”_

_“And Emma and you, how have you been?”_

_“Fine! As fine as marriage can be, I suppose.”_

_Biting your lower lip, you took a sip from your water. It wasn’t too cold, just how you liked it._

_“Will she be back soon?”_

_“She should be in an hour or so.”_

_You nodded._

_“I… wanted to talk to you about something.”_

Because I thought it would only be fair for you to know… I think, _you added silently._

_Robert frowned._

_“Speak.”_

_You had started shaking. Your digits were trembling as they held the glass tightly. You could not do this. You had to do this. You were holding on to a cliff. One hand was holding Robert’s, the other was clutching the edge. No matter whom or what you would let go off, you could not win. Were you a decent human being, for doing this?_

_“I… I believe that she’s cheating on you.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Emma.”_

_“What?”_

_“She’s cheating on you.”_

_“No.”_

_“S-she is.”_

_He glared at you, anger flashing in his blue eyes as he leaned forward like a predator, like he was going to attack you; verbally, if anything._

_“Have you gone mad?”_

_“No.”_

_Treacherous tears formed in your eyes. They worsened your sight, transforming Robert into a black dot before you._

_“Robert.”_

_He said nothing._

_“Robert, have you been spending a lot of time with her lately?”_

_“She’s busy.”_

_“With what?”_

_“The gallery.”_

_“What about Thursdays?”_

_“What?”_

_“Thursdays. The gallery’s afternoon off.”_

_He thought about it for a moment._

_“You have gone mad.”_

_“Robert… read the signs.”_

_“We have children.”_

_You couldn’t suppress your snort._

_“That didn’t stop her.”_

_Angrily, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, full of disgust and hatred. Your heart broke._

_“Get out.”_

_“Robert!”_

_“Get out of my house!”_

_You remembered it well. It was a chilly autumn day, the Piccadilly line on strike and that homeless guy on the tube wearing only one shoe. It was the last time you spoke before you left London for good. While part of you wished you could have said goodbye differently, the other part knew it had been the right thing to do. It had to have been the right thing to do. Even if you had partially done it for selfish reasons._

_Robert was naïve, probably. An affair, right under his nose. His marriage at stake, his family life in danger. Yes, Robert sent you away that night. But it was because he refused to accept the two truths his_ heart _had long welcomed. That letter he read only shortly after proved you had never had the intention to lie to him, or to harm his marriage. One, Emma was betraying him. Two, he was in love with you, too._

* * *

You desperately gasped for air. The memory was as painful as your longing for this man before you. Who were you going to fool? You _still_ loved him. He knew. He must have known, always. And he never said anything. Why would he? There was no need to risk anything. Not your friendship, not his relationship with Emma.

Robert gnashed his teeth. His fists were clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, the beer he had ordered tasted repulsive. The people around him bothered him, he longed to scream at the barkeeper for no reason at all. For _this_ was where he had sat with Jerry two days after your departure. No goodbyes, no farewells, no well wishes. He regretted he had never contacted you to make up for it. Come to think of it, he regretted letting you go in the first place.

* * *

_“Do you know what she said?”_

_“What?”_

_“She said that Emma is cheating on me.”_

_“What? No.”_

_“I know.”_

_Did he though?_

_“Why?”_

_“Why what?”_

_“I mean, why would she say that Emma is cheating on you? She must have had a reason. A false suspicion, maybe.”_

_“I don’t know, actually.”_

_“Don’t you?”_

_“Well, I suppose I do.”_

_“So why?”_

_“She has always been in love with me, hasn’t she?”_

_Jerry’s eyes widened, his body stiffening in surprise._

_“Who? Emma or (Y/N)?”_

_Robert paused. When he said nothing more, he took a deep breath._

_“Both of them, Jerry.”_

* * *

Robert blinked.

“I missed you.”

You admitted timidly.

“I know.”

He paused briefly.

“I missed you too.”

* * *

“You should go home to your wife.”

“I don’t think I still have a wife.”

He retorted sharply, rubbing his beard absentmindedly. It was gesture which you had always found incredibly sexy. You doubted Emma shared your thoughts.

You were sitting next to each other on the sofa in your hotel room after coming to the decision to leave the pub for good, staring holes into the wall. Robert appreciated your presence, as you did his and yet… neither of you was sure how to behave around the other. The tension was tangible, his knee touching yours ever so slightly.

You couldn’t remember how you ended up on his lap, couldn’t remember how he had started kissing you with such ferocity you ran out of breath within a mere heartbeat. Burying your fingers in his hair, you rocked against him, drinking him in as if you feared to die from thirst if you didn’t.

He had been kidding himself, even mocked you in front of Jerry to stroke his ego for harbouring feelings for him when in truth, it had taken him _years_ to realise why his heart beat faster around you. Why he longed to pull you in his arms and inhale your heavenly scent.

He had stopped feeling this way with Emma even before he learned about the affair, so he came to understand. The sex didn’t feel the same despite his love for his wife. Perhaps he had always known about her disloyalty—perhaps he had known without knowing.

His warm hands sneaked under your thin pullover, exploring your skin with relish. They wandered up almost demandingly when you intensified the kiss, right until he was able to cup your breasts through your bra, eliciting a silent whimper from you.

By the time he pulled away, both of you were out of breath, the quiet hotel room filled with nothing but your panting for a while.

“What are we doing here?”

A few seconds passed before Robert responded.

“Something I should have done with you a long time ago.”

There was no hesitation in his voice—only determination. Perhaps it was only now, in this very moment, that the gravity of last night’s events hit him to the fullest. That his marriage was over. That those feelings he had always had for you were no longer _wrong. If_ you still wanted him. You had kissed him back with a passion but what significance did this hold? He had watched his own wife… _ex-wife_ … having an affair with his best friend for four years, after all.

“Are you seeing someone?”

He had to know. If he dreaded the answer then he would be even more desperate to know. Did it really matter now? Relationships didn’t work this way. So much had been at stake, for such a long time. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, granting him a fresh start. Perhaps with you, he would even give love a second chance. Perhaps those feelings pounding in his heart when you were with him were more than mere sexual lust and a desire for revenge. He might have been in love but he was also unsure; a bit insecure even.

“I’m not. I had affairs. Brief sexual encounters. But I never saw anyone.”

If he told Emma now, he wouldn’t be lying. He _had_ a woman now. A beautiful woman who was sitting on his lap in this very moment. With you, he didn’t feel like he had to _talk._ You knew what he was thinking. Maybe you had always known—even back when he had kicked you out of his house.

“I’m sorry.”

He felt the urge to say it, knowing you’d know what he meant. You cupped his face in response, your thumbs brushing over his beard; and the weakest of smiles forming on your lips.

“So what do we do now?”

Robert went silent, said nothing for a while. When he looked back up, his blue eyes were glistening with bold conviction as they locked with yours.

“We continue where we left off when we first met.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on my Tumblr (@sserpente) to find more of my writing! ♥


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